In My Mind
by Rubies and Diamonds
Summary: Do you ever get that feeling where you love someone so goddamn much, that you literally hate them? I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's true. I am so in love with Lily Evans, and I positively hate her for it.


**A/N:** Hello, beautiful, wonderful people. This is just some drabble I wrote while trying to write my next chapter of HANIATM. Sorry, but it will be a bit longer for the update. But I give you this to hopefully make up for it. Written in first person, present tense.

**Disclaimer: **The wonderful people in this pile of horse dung I call a oneshot are property of J.K. Rowling, so don't go thinking I own them.

* * *

Do you ever get that feeling where you love someone so goddamn much, that you literally hate them?

I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's true.

I am so in love with Lily Evans, and I positively hate her for it.

It's not just her though. I hate my supposed best mate for not realizing how I feel, I also hate him for going out with her, I hate Dumbledore for making us Heads, making us share a _dorm_, I hate her some more for being so bloody perfect, all cute and sexy at the same time walking around in her bloody pants and big shirt in our shared Common Room, falling asleep on the couch and just being _her_, but most of all I hate myself. I just – I act like such a big prat around her!

I have managed to get her to probably hate me, and she has good reason to. I've been anything but nice to her, which is insane because all I really want to do is be the one person who can make her laugh and smile and make her happy for the rest of her life, not glare at her and act like talking to her is a chore. I love the sound of her voice – I know it sounds crazy but she has the best sounding voice in the entire world. I don't think you could find one more insanely, let-me-rip-my-hair-out-to-stop-myself-from-jumping-your-bones, sounding voice. It's so… smooth, and not high pitched and squeaky like most girls' are, but it's like – I can't describe it. I don't mean it singing-wise, though. I've heard her in the shower and was having a right good laugh – until, I; well, I remembered she was probably… yeah. I became reacquainted with my left hand about then.

And I manage to make her hate me – or at most, have her believe I can't even stand to breathe the same air as her (which I honestly don't mind in the least). And the reasoning is so stupid, and it's petty, but I'm jealous. I am insanely jealous of my best mate, Sirius Black, who is all happy dandy, Lily on his arm, her laughing at him in a way I wish she would laugh at me with, all twinkling and happy, the most amazing sound in the world. It even surpasses her voice, but it's still a close second. I think the third most amazing sound is the sound of the oven when it's finished cooking. That little ding, followed by the scent of food – especially when its Mum's lasagna. Merlin.

So there's me, sitting at breakfast, him with his arm around her little waist, the picture of a perfect couple, and I'm sitting across from them, and I can't help my rigid posture. I'm clenching my fork and I'm surprised it hasn't turned into a lump of smoldering metal yet, because I'm furious. I know it's unfair to blame Sirius – I've never told anyone of my infatuation with her, and it's not like he can read minds or anything. I hope.

So I sit there, shoveling eggs in my mouth, avoiding conversation, stonily trying to ignore the happy couple, wanting to leave the stupid Great Hall before I sock Sirius one. And then Lily _has_ to go and be all caring-like, asking if I'm okay, and her emerald green eyes wide as she looks me over. I guess I must have looked something awful. I didn't sleep much last night – scratch that, haven't slept much since the beginning of term. How could I when she's a wall away from me?

"Yeah, fine," I answer, not even raising my gaze up from my meal to look at her. I still register the brief look of hurt that crosses over her pretty features out of the corner of my eye, though, and it's enough for me to want to hang myself.

"Uh," she looks at me, slightly worried, as if I'm about to start yelling at her or something. "I-I was going to say, do you think we could go over rounds schedules later? Because they need doing, and we're nowhere near…" she trails off, looking at me hopelessly.

"Whatever," I reply. Agrippa, why do I even exist? I can't even be nice to the girl who I – honest to God– want to marry one day. There she is, offering to give up her time to spend it with me – albeit not voluntarily, it's a Head thing, but still, she could do it alone, and I'm telling her 'whatever'. I'm a pathetic excuse for a human.

"Uh, yeah, okay…" if I didn't know better I'd think she was about to cry. Even though she isn't, obviously, I still feel like the World's Biggest Asshole .

I need to get out of here and drown myself. So I nod sharply, grab my schoolbag and leave the stupid table. I'm not hungry anymore; I'm too full of feeling disgusted with myself. But its better if she thinks I hate her, right? Because if she knew – it would only be trouble for her. And I couldn't do that to Sirius – even though he inadvertently did it to me. He didn't know about how I felt though, and I know how he feels. This is what I get for being a coward and not telling her sooner. I don't deserve to be in Gryffindor.

"What the hell was that, Prongs?" I hear someone snap furiously from behind me.

"What was what?" I ask, not turning or stopping.

"You know what!" he grabs onto my shoulder, and with me stopped; he walks in front of me, glaring ferociously. "I get you don't like her, but hell, you could at least _try_!"

Really, Padfoot? I'm contemplating the best ways to off myself because I might have upset her slightly. And I am trying! I'm trying to get her to hate me so I don't fill myself with stupid fantasies that she actually feels the same way I do, because she doesn't. It's called self-preservation.

"Padfoot, if I don't like her then I don't," I reply. I'm not giving anything away. I neither confirm nor deny said allegations against my feelings for the Head Girl – even if said allegations are so far from the truth it's almost laughable.

"Well pretend!"

"Why should I?"

"Because she's making an effort! You're no fun to be around, glaring at her like she's some dirt on your shoe, but she makes an effort!" He's glaring at me now. Like, full on rage. Oh how _lovely_. Devoted boyfriend sticking up for his girl. Excuse me while I curl up and sob in the corner.

I want this over with, so I comply. "I'll try, okay? And if I can't I'll just hang back until she's gone."

Apparently that wasn't the right answer.

"The whole world doesn't centre around you and your dumbass decisions! 'Try' isn't good enough! I don't know what she's done to make you hate her so much, but, Prongs, I'm your best mate. If anything, you should be doing it for me. Swallow your shitty pride and pointless dislike, and _apologize_ _to her_."

I'm selfish. I'm horrible and mean and selfish. Why should I be mean to someone just because they don't return my ridiculous feelings?

"Okay, okay. Civil, yeah? I'm not about to go spending every waking minute with her (as much as I'd like too), but I can do it. Sorry for being such a shitty mate." That apology runs a hell lot deeper than not getting on with his girlfriend. That apology also is to do with the fact I am in love with said girlfriend, and have been for about two/three years now.

He smiles a bit at me. "Thanks," he says "you're a great mate. She doesn't deserve that."

Oh hell, Sirius, I'm the worst mate there is. Stop it. Hate me. Punch me. Kick me. Do something, but _don't_ call me a great mate.

"Thanks. I'm honestly sorry."

* * *

Charms either sucks ass or is one of my favourite lessons of the day. The same can be said for Potions, which, incidentally, we have next.

And shall I tell you _why_ Charms and Potions class have both the potential to be my favourite subjects?

Lily Evans.

Oh yeah, yeah, but it's not just the fact she's in lessons with me. Hell, we take Divination together and it's still my least favourite lesson.

It's the fact she just looks so happy, so excited in both of these lessons, and its hard to not want to join her in being so.

Also, it doesn't hurt we're partnered for Potions either. Even if she's quiet and probably afraid of me or something like that – not that I'd blame her, of course – she's still fascinating to watch. Not like, stalker-ish, I mean, when she makes the potion. It's kind of entrancing. And it's also really hot when she gets mad. Like when I cut those roots up wrong added too much of whatever it was and basically ruined the bloody thing and she got all mad at me… yeah that was hot.

But it seems today that it will be one of those times for me to hate Potions once more (aside from the fact I'm pure, one hundred per cent shite at it). Seems Sluggy thought today would be the day to get us to brew Amortentia. Really? I thought we were mates, Horace!

There's this hug ass cauldron of the stuff at the front of class, and Merlin. It smells like heaven. Evans-induced heaven. It's maple syrup and strawberries and powder and whipped cream and old books and orange zest shampoo – it's amazing. I kind of feel like I'm loosing my mind, because she's sitting right next to me, and the smell is times a billion when she's in my proximity. I'm going to die from the amazing smell. It's going to be the death of me, I swear it.

She's staring stonily ahead, her mouth in a tight line, her back stiff and she looks like she's just committed a terrible offense. Or she just doesn't want me near her, maybe. I'm thinking the latter. Ah, shit. She isn't upset about breakfast is she? Of course she is, you dolt! Oh, fuck.

"Hey, Evans?" I whisper to her, trying to ignore the wonderful smell that's even stronger when I lean closer for her to hear me. Curse her for her amazing smell. Her hand clenches into a fist.

"Evans – I'm sorry, I was having a shit morning – sorry if I offended you or…" when I realize she hasn't even turned to acknowledge me, I just aim to end it there. "Just, sorry."

She relaxes slightly as I lean away, I notice.

All through the brewing she ignores me, she doesn't even comment on my chopping skills. I kind of live for her acknowledgement. And when she doesn't, it's like a punch to the gut. A well deserved punch to the gut, but still, it isn't nice. Hell, I'm so pathetic.

She still stiffens, and if I didn't know better, blushes whenever I lean over to add to the cauldron. I'm starting to think I need a shower. I had one this morning, but I'm afraid I smell now. Her little nose wrinkles slightly, and her jaw clenches as I add the wormwood. Oh, crap. I stink, don't I? She's probably trying to enjoy the smell of Sirius or someone (the bastard) and I'm messing it up with my bad smell. I decide to just quit while I'm ahead, let her finish off the Amortentia and enjoy smelling whatever she does, and go chat with Hestia Jones, a Ravenclaw who sits on the table next to ours. She's fit, don't get me wrong, but she isn't really anything special. Hell, that makes me sound like such a dick.

I'm having a nice chat with the bird, she's laughing at something I said, even though it wasn't really that funny (but that's girls for you. They're a mystery I'm not even going to try to understand), and then all of a sudden, Lily turns on me and, I swear to Merlin, her eyes would rival the fiery pits of Hades. Y'know... green version.

"Why the hell are you in this class if all you're going to do is _flirt_?" she hisses at me, and I swear, its terrifying and so, _so,_ sexy all at once. She's barely said a few words to me, and I can feel little Potter making an entrance. Goddamn the male anatomy.

But, aside from other bodily ventures, I look at her, confused. Usually she's pleased I'm not helping. I'm bloody shite, as I so eloquently mentioned before.

"Since when do you want my help?" I don't mean for it to sound rude. I'm honestly shocked she wants me to work.

"You're such a prat! Jones is probably trying to do her work-"

"I don't mind," Hestia giggles, twirling a strand of her short, straight black hair with her index finger.

I flash her a grin. "Case solved."

I really hate myself sometimes. I don't understand why I can't just be _normal _towards her. I am an abomination. I am the worst kind of human being. I am a disgrace to the male kind. I should be flirting with _her_, though I doubt it would go down well, her seeing my best mate and all that. Still, I should at least be _nice_ to her! Thanks mum and dad, for mixing your genes to make the most awkward, unfortunate, adolescent ever.

Lily huffs, furious for no reason I can think of, and returns to crushing the lacewing flies, probably a bit more vigorously than they should be crushed with.

Hestia tries to engage me in conversation again, but I feel bad, even though I don't understand it. I thought Lily would see it as a blessing, me not helping her, but I guess I'll never, ever understand the workings of Lily Evans's mind.

As I wave Hestia off and begin dicing the Salamander spleen, Lily watches me. I can see her in the corner of my eye, sneaking sideways glances, and then quickly flicking back to the mortar.

I don't know what to think of it - I don't think anyone does, really, when the girl you want to pick up and take right on the bloody Potions floor is watching you. ANd by watching, it means _not_ glaring, like usual. Its… I don't really know what to call it.

Sneaking sideways glances to see some idiot sticking out his tongue in concentration as he tries to cut open a spleen isn't a regular thing for her to do, and I would know, since I spend most of my time staring at her. I don't think I've ever caught her doing the same, if she ever does, that is.

I try not to think anything of it, just ignore her – which I will admit is bloody hard – and get on with the spleen. Agrippa, this thing is disgusting. All green and slimy. What kind of deformed Salamander has this shit come from?

"You're doing it wrong," she informs me after I unsuccessfully try to empty the insides for the hundredth time. That's probably why she was watching then; ready to inform me of my lack of Potions skill – like I need reminding, pfft.

I turn, and she's smiling. Like, actually smiling. She doesn't smile at me. That's the rule. She's _never_ smiled at me. She looks like she's trying not to laugh though, – am I really _that_ bad? – So I guess that's why… but still, _smiling! _Please excuse my mental conga line.

"Here," she says, and takes the knife from me. Her pale hand brushes just against mine for a moment, but its enough. Oh, my, her _skin_. It's so _soft_. Not good for the already aroused senses, I tell you. I'm at war with my inner instincts to grab and kiss every inch of her. Quiten yourself, animal James. There is a lady who _doesn't_ want that present.

Her face is as red as a tomato. Oh, hell. She can't read minds, can she? She didn't hear all of that, did she? Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap.

_I'm sorry, Evans, I do not want to sexually assault you._

I'm guessing she can't read minds, because her face hasn't calmed and she hasn't hit me yet. That's a good thing. If she could she probably wouldn't stand within a thousand miles of me. Which would suck. A lot.

"You do it like _this_," she explains, acting as though her face wasn't the same color as her hair. That's cool. I don't really want to know what she was thinking of. It might have been several images of me being burnt at the stake. Her tone sure doesn't convey that, but hell if I know what she's on about half the time. And everyone knows she's got some magic control over herself when she wants it. I'm pretty sure she's wanted to scream at me and stab me on plenty of occasions, but held herself back. I admire her for that. It can't easy with how much often I act like a total asshole to her.

Sure enough, she cuts the ruddy thing open perfectly. "It's all in the angle," she says, gesturing with the now-bloody knife.

"Why don't you do it then?" I ask. Damn, that came out wrong. Meant to be a compliment. Oh you bloody fucking twat. Try to say something nice to her, mouth? Sorry, no can do! I'll fuck it up somehow and ruin your life, just like always!

"Fine," she snaps, and continues gutting the things. Apologize! Apologize now, idiot!

"Uh… I didn't… eh…"

AND THE AWARD FOR THE MOST AWKWARD, RIDICULOUS AND PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN GOES TO… JAMES POTTER!

"Whatever, Potter. Go back to Jones. I don't want to fail another assignment."

Ouch. I hate my life.

* * *

Well done, you survived the day! …Even if the love-of-your-life-even-though-she's-your-best-friends-girlfriend didn't even look at you again for the rest of the day. I'm pretty sure my heart is broken into a million pieces. Like I said before, I crave her attention. Even if it is just for her to tell me I'm a despicable person.

Which is true. I am. Especially to her. And then I go and blame it on her (why I'm a despicable person to her). But it is kind of her fault. If she wasn't so bloody gorgeous and didn't make my heart race like a thousand miles and hour and didn't turn my brain to goo then I might be able to string together coherent sentences and not act like a bastard. It would also help if she weren't going out with Sirius. Then I might not want to strangle him. See? This is all her fault.

Another upside to the whole Lily-loves-my-best-friend-and-hates-me? I really can't spend more than five minutes in his presence. Seconds, when he's talking about her. And I generally try to avoid them when they're together. I think breakfast is enough of an example.

And due to the fact that I want to sob uncontrollably while simultaneously killing my best friend whenever I'm with him, I thought it best to… _not_ be with him. For his safety and my sanity. I really am a terrible friend.

So, lessons are over, I'm eating dinner la la la, all happy and yummy elf food, go to the Head Dorm and… BAM. My what-I-thought-was-already-broken heart fully breaks. Like, snaps in half, sinks to my stomach, breaks again, then burns in my stomach acid, then continues to drop to my feet, then gets trampled on by my clown sized feet, then turns to dust, then blows away in the non-existent wind.

Because there, on the couch, is Lily Evans, sobbing. It is the worst experience of my life. And I never want it to happen again. I make a silent vow with myself, that whatever it is that's got her so upset, I will hunt down and brutally murder for making the most amazing person alive so sad.

"Lily?" I ask. Should I have called her Evans?

She looks up and oh, hold me I don't think I can stand straight because wow. I know it isn't appropriate, because she's crying and all, but she somehow manages to look fucking stunning, even with snot running down her face. How? Really, why do you torment me this way?

She looks so panicked. I've never seen her look so vulnerable. She's not a vulnerable person. She's Lily fucking Evans!

"Um… I'll go…" I stammer. I don't want her to feel like I'm intruding or something. People deserve the right to cry in peace.

I'm just about halfway across the room when: "What did I do to make you hate me so much?"

Was _not_ expecting that.

"What?" Smooth. Real smooth, Potter. No falling to your knees and proclaiming your love, no rushing to her side and holding her and telling her just how important and how much I don't hate her (well I do… but not real hate – in the way she thinks.)

"What did I do?" she sounds so _heartbroken_. Oh, please, why am I alive? I can't take this. She doesn't deserve any unhappiness.

"I-I don't hate you, Evans." No, I love you, be my wife please, and let me take care of you and never let you be unhappy again. Even though if I tried any heroics you'd probably kick my ass.

"Don't pretend like you don't," she says. And she's sobbing again. No, no, no. If you can think of one way to torture me, this is it. "I know you do."

"Evans, I really don't hate you. Honestly." Believe me. You are so far from the truth, the truth isn't even alive anymore. It has curled into a ball and died because you have left it so alone and, like me, it craves your attention because you are so perfect.

"Then why," she takes a deep breathe, wipes her eyes, sniffs a few times (which for some reason is so adorable. That's it with her though – everything is sexy or adorable. It's not fair.) She takes another long breath, and begins again. "You know my ex boyfriend just told me he was gay?"

Okay… Don't know what's going on here. Does she mean Sirius, or…?

"He told me, and then we broke up."

Okay she means Sirius.

…

Sirius is gay? Since when? Not that I'm not happy for him or anything.

Oh, shit. I have to kill Sirius now? I was only joking when I said I wanted to kill him before! My life would be shit without him!

She sniffs again. "You know the worst part?"

There's a worse part?

"I didn't even care."

Huh?

"I honestly felt nothing. I think I knew it was coming. We have barely so much as _kissed_ for like the past… month or something. So he has been… I don't know lying? To me? To himself? Whichever, then we've broken up, and we've been together for so long, and I _didn't even care_. And I hate myself for it, because I've known and I didn't admit it to myself and I thought it would go away but it hasn't and I've been lying to him, and he's been hiding from me and I don't even know why because you – argh! It's your fault and I bloody hate you for it!" Back to crying.

I… wow. Brain is stunned for words. Can that happen? I don't even know what's going on. That happens a lot, but this is like pure _confusion_. I feel like one of those cartoons, where the stars are spinning around the guys head after he's just been whacked round the noggin.

So… She didn't care her man was gay – does that mean she was happy for him, and didn't mind his choice, or she genuinely didn't care the relationship was over? And then she knew, so I guess that's why she didn't care… because she already knew, and then it's my fault somehow. Has Sirius got the hots for me? Huh. If he were ever going to be gay I would have pegged him with Remus, to be honest.

...Not that I think about stuff like that, no siree.

"Just – please don't cry." That's the right thing to say, right? Solve the first problem. Getting her to stop crying. Because its painful to watch, and it can't be any good for her either. Which just makes it all the more painful.

"You don't get it! You're so _stupid_! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

Ow. If my heart were still beating and not a pile of blown-away dust, it would be re-breaking.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what I did, but-" OH WELL WHY DON'T WE LIST ALL THE TIMES YOU HAVE BEEN AN ASSHOLE, JAMES?

"Stop it! You – argh! Why are you so _dense_? Why am I such an _idiot_? You don't – and – argh!"

I want to tell her she's not making sense but I think that would be insensitive. Have I mentioned, along with being ridiculously thick, pathetic and a general douche I'm also terrible at talking to girls? Especially crying ones?

"I'm sorry for being dense?" Yes. Apologizing. Apologizing is good.

"That doesn't change anything!" No. Apologizing. Apologizing is _not_ good. Okay, new plan.

"What can I do to make it better?" _There _you are. You want to make it better. You ask how. I deserve a medal. This is one of the longest conversations we've ever had were I haven't _completely_ ruined it. Much.

"You can stop being such a bloody idiot and realize what's right in front of you!" …Right in front of me. Okay. I can do this. There is a _chair_. I have realized what is right in front of me… Now what?

"A… chair?"

I don't know how she manages it when her eyes are still full of tears, but she can roll them. "You better be joking, or you're more stupid than I thought you were."

"Yeah, I'm joking." Not. "_So_… What is it I'm missing?" I am the epitome of casualness, if you hadn't noticed.

"Look, it doesn't matter. Don't know what I was thinking. You don't feel the same. Heck, you don't even _like _me. Sorry. I'll – I'll see you around, James." That's the first time she's called me by my first name. My heart is slowly reforming and bursting in happiness right about now.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Just… can you please explain what the hell is going on?" Yes, I sound like an idiot but I do that on a regular basis. And I'm on a high, leave me alone. She called me James! _SHE CALLED ME JAMES!_

And she's laughing at me. There's something off about it though. It's hallow and broken, like something awful has happened and its all she can do is laugh about it. I think I prefer the crying about now.

"Do you know how much I want to just sit and cry every time you ignore me or just shut me off? Or how much I want to strangle any girl you talk to? Or _you_, for that matter? I know its not really reasonable, but I'm sitting right there and I know you don't realize it but -"

Please don't let this be dream. Life, if you want to do one thing to make up for everything that has gone wrong in my life – and that's a lot – all you have to do is make this reality.

"Uh… I – ah, wha-?" oh, and the ability to NOT SOUND LIKE SOMEONE WHO ISN'T IN CONTROL OF THEIR MENTAL FACUTLIES HELPS.

"I don't even know why. I don't think we've ever really had a civil conversation. That's not my fault, you know. But, you… I don't think you realize just how endearing you are. And stupid, too. But still. And its stupid of _me_, I know, and I'm sorry. Can we just put this behind us? They're just feelings, right? They'll go away."

PLEASE DON'T LET THEM GO AWAY. FATE THOU ART A HEARTLESS BITCH IF THIS IS MY IMAGINATION.

"Lily –"

"It's okay, I know you don't feel the same. I didn't expect you to –"

Wow body. You move that fast? Since when?

Oh, Agrippa, brain! You think about that? YOU'RE KISSING LILY EVANS AND YOU WONDER HOW FAST YOU CAN FUCKING MOVE WHAT IS GODDAMN WRONG WITH YOU?

"Please stop saying you know how I feel, because you're honestly getting it completely wrong."

James Potter: 1

Life: HA, IN YOUR FACE!

* * *

**A/N: **I'm sorry. This is terrible. I don't even know what was going through my mind while I wrote this, really. I'm sorry.

-Ruby


End file.
